


buy a heart

by reachthetree



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Magical Realism, Sad Pining Harry, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 12:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4829018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reachthetree/pseuds/reachthetree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the bottom of the info page there’s a price stated, with a lot of numbers, and a warning in capital letters: THIS PROCEDURE IS DONE COMPLETELY AT YOUR OWN RISK, WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT WE CANNOT GUARANTEE YOUR SURVIVAL.</p><p>Harry thinks that keeping his broken heart inside is a bigger threat to his life than removing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	buy a heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tomlinshawty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomlinshawty/gifts).



> I hope this is sad and pining enough, Ava! Thanks for telling me to write this. :)
> 
> Also thanks to Mel and Michelle for the beta, Josefin and Namra for helpful thoughts, and to everyone who thought this sounded cool when I told them about it.
> 
> I know it's says "canon compliant" but I omitted certain canonical things, like Zayn leaving and Elounor breaking up and also the existence of Hannah. Sorry Hannah.
> 
> Title from the song that inspired this mess, Buy a Heart by Nicki Minaj. 
> 
> Enjoy! xx

**2010**

The day Harry leaves for The X Factor, his heart starts beating just that much quicker than it used to.

It keeps that pace for three years, three months, and seven days.

He meets Louis before he even auditions, and it seems like his heart throbs as much for the cute boy with the soft fringe as it does for the realisation of his dream. No, not his dream – his true self. This is what he’s meant to do, Harry has always known. 

Out of all the things that went wrong, that’s not one of them.

*

Louis kisses him in the bungalow, with shaking lips and clenched fists. When Harry opens his mouth and follows, Louis’ hands lose their tension and find Harry’s hair. The air is thick with possibility; their real lives are about to begin. In this life, Harry will kiss a cute boy and stand on stage. Hot spotlights and slow hands. In this life, Harry’s heart is beating faster than it used to, more intensely alive than before.

”I can feel your heart beat.” Louis puts a hand on Harry’s chest and smiles, impossibly warm.

Harry’s heart responds by beating harder, as if reaching for Louis’ hand. ”Good to know I’m still alive,” Harry jokes, but he’s breathless under that simple touch.

Louis laughs. ”You better be, we have a world to conquer.” And he flashes a toothy Louis-smile at Harry and then his hand is gone, but Harry can still feel the warm imprint of it on his chest. And his heart is beating so, so hard.

*

Harry and Louis kiss sometimes. Every time they do, Harry feels new, like by the touch of Louis’ lips he grows new skin, glowing with the warmth of his body.

They’re hiding in a closet before a live show when Louis rests his forehead against Harry’s and giggles.

”You’re the coolest friend I’ve ever had,” he whispers. He still sounds breathless from kissing every bit of sense out of Harry.

Harry huffs, a short laughing noise. He’s unsure what to say. ”Likewise.”

Louis licks his lips, pink and swollen, and presses them to Harry again. _We’re friends,_ Harry thinks as he opens his mouth for Louis’ tongue. _The coolest friends._

But he knows he’s in love.

*

”I think my heart has grown a few sizes since being in the band.” Louis’ voice is slow and unsure behind Harry, his hands resting on Harry’s stomach.

”Like the Grinch,” Harry murmurs.

Louis lets out a nervous laugh. ”Yeah. But I’m not stealing anything, am I?” He sounds hesitant, like he needs Harry to take care of him, and Harry doesn’t know what to do. 

He burrows deeper into Louis’ chest, waggles his bum into Louis’ crotch, and says: ”No, just my heart.”

Louis laughs again, and his grip on Harry’s waist tightens. Nothing else is said.

*

There’s a moment that feels impossibly big when it happens, and pathetically small afterwards.

Harry and Louis are locked in the bathroom. There’s people everywhere here, so they do this a lot. Sometimes they talk. Sometimes they do other things. Every time they get interrupted by someone who needs the bathroom.

Today, they’re sitting with their clothes on in the bathtub. Their legs are tangled and they’re holding hands on the side of the tub. It’s empty but Harry feels like bubbles inside.

”Hey,” Louis says quietly. ”Do you ever feel like we’ve known each other for longer than we actually have?”

He looks at Harry with a rare vulnerability about him, and Harry can’t nod quick enough. ”Definitely,” he says and squeezes Louis’ hand.

Louis’ face relaxes. ”I’m so glad I met you,” he says. 

Harry feels his face go warm. ”Same.” It’s not enough, but maybe that’s just as well.

*

Everything is forever when you’re sixteen. You’re going to be friends for life, you swear and you believe that, the moment is so strong. How can it not last? Harry is sure he could carve in stone with his fingertips, he feels so strong. This love is good and real. That means it has to last. Isn’t that how it works?

**2011**

When they move in together, Harry thinks that this is it. This is commitment. They have their home to come back to after touring, and Louis steals Harry’s toothbrush when his own has gone all frizzy. They’re a unit.

They snuggle up on the sofa to watch a movie and when the protagonist runs through an airport to profess their love, Harry takes a deep breath.

”Do you believe in love?” The words are heavy in Harry’s mouth, and when he finally gets them out it sounds like slow-motion to him.

He immediately feels Louis nod behind him. ”Yeah, ’course. Why?”

That’s a good question. Harry shrugs. ”No reason.”

There’s a rustling of blankets as Louis cuddles closer, buries his nose in Harry’s hair. ”Curls get the girls,” he mumbles. ”You’re going to find love, Styles, don’t worry.”

Louis’ embrace is Harry’s favourite place, but right then he feels trapped in Louis’ gentle arms. He doesn’t say anything; he puts his hand over Louis’ where it rests on Harry’s stomach, and laces their fingers together. 

There’s probably nothing else to say.

Harry doesn’t need more than the look on Louis’ face to know it’s over. He’s beaming, crinkled, and bounces in his step when he comes up to Harry. ”Guess what?”

”You’re going to use this photoshoot to display the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tattoo on your arse?”

Louis laughs loudly. ”No, I’m saving that for the naked Rolling Stone cover when our careers are in trouble.”

Harry laughs as good as he can and hopes that Louis won’t tell him whatever it is. He doesn’t have any such luck.

”But seriously, ask me what happened.” Louis looks so happy. Devastatingly so.

”What happened?” Harry is vaguely aware of Liam looking nervous somewhere in the background.

Louis grins. ”I met someone.”

And there it is. The thing Harry didn’t want to hear. Louis met someone who isn’t him. ”That’s amazing. You’ll have to tell me about it later, though.” His voice sounds alien to him, and he slips away before Louis can respond. He takes it upon himself to distract Liam by making an elephant trunk out of an orange, and it’s fine. Louis met someone and Harry’s fingers smell like orange peel for hours afterwards.

He smiles prettily for the camera.

*

They were never together, but Harry was so sure of Louis. Harry was so sure that Louis was the one. He still is, Harry’s heart whispers to him, but you’re not the one for him.

”The one is a ridiculous concept,” Harry says out loud to no one. He still lives in his and Louis’ flat.

Louis isn’t around much these days, though.

*

When Harry meets Eleanor for the first time, he smiles and shakes her hand while looking her in the eyes, like you’re supposed to. She looks devastatingly happy; smiling so big there are crinkles by her eyes and perfect teeth showing. Of course she has perfect teeth. Harry uses his own to bite on his bottom lip.

”So you’re Harry,” she says. ”Just as charming as Louis said, I can tell already.”

Harry lets go of her hand and ducks his head down. ”Don’t believe a word,” he tells her open-toe sandals. Her toenails are painted a coral pink. ”I’m awful.”

Eleanor laughs at that, like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. Harry laughs along as if it was a joke. It stings, but what doesn’t. Over her shoulder, Harry can see Louis peeking at them, and he nods.

”Oh, wow, where did you get those?” She’s pointing at his boots, and before Harry knows it he’s swept up in a conversation about fashion with the girlfriend of the love of his life.

And he really likes her. When eventually Eleanor excuses herself to check in with Louis again, Harry nods and smiles and ignores the sadness that seems to come from his very core. There’s nothing at all to hate about her, or the situation. But his heart seems unaware of that.

*

Louis comes by to pick up clean clothes. He talks a mile a minute about how happy he is, and Harry tries to smile, fiddling with the zipper to one of the sofa cushions. When Louis is about to leave again, he stops in front of Harry with clean pants dangling from his hand. 

”You should come over some time,” he says. ”I think you’d get along.” He shoves the pants into his backpack and looks back up at Harry with an almost shy smile.

”Okay.” Harry can hear the hesitance in his own voice; he’s always been shit at lying. ”That sounds nice.”

Louis frowns for a millisecond before schooling his face into a grin. ”Awesome. I’ll text you, yeah?”

Harry nods. ”Take care,” Louis yells over his shoulder, and the door slams before Harry can say the same to him.

His body feels as if filled with lead, but he drags himself up and into the shower. The hot water smatters against his skin. He turns his face into the spray and holds his breath.

Maybe seeing them together more will help him get over it.

*

Eleanor lives in a small flat with a ’beware of the dog owner’ doormat outside the door and no mats at all inside said door. When Harry arrives, Louis greets him at the door with an awkward hug. He pats Harry on the back. Eleanor waves to Harry when he looks over Louis’ shoulder.

”I know it’s not much,” she says, and Louis lets Harry go, ”but welcome.” She smiles hesitantly, and Harry can’t think of anything else to do but walk over and hug her too.

”It’s nice,” he says, and she relaxes in the brief second before the hug is over.

She smiles, and Louis attaches himself to her side and smiles proudly. Harry is instructed to make himself comfortable, so he sits down on the tiny sofa while Louis and Eleanor retreat to the kitchen corner to prepare food. There are clothes Harry knows to be Louis’s on the floor. An empty rum bottle resides on the table. Harry tries not to look toward the bed corner, but he’s hyper aware of it in the corner of his eye. There’s a cup on the bedside table, and a tube of some kind. Harry both wants and doesn’t want to know.

”Hey.” Harry jerks when Louis speaks to him; he hasn’t noticed that he came over. Louis laughs a little at Harry’s surprise. Understandable. Harry can see the comical value, from a theoretical perspective, but he doesn’t feel so amused.

”Food’s ready,” Louis says in a careful tone.

Harry puts on a big smile. ”Brilliant.”

Louis gives him a look, but says nothing as he puts plates out for them while Eleanor gets them glasses of lemonade. They chew on pasta in silence, and Harry can see Eleanor giving Louis a wondering look. Louis shrugs.

”It’s so nice having you over,” Eleanor tries. She smiles again, twirls her fork around, and Harry needs to smile back.

”Thank you for having me,” he says. ”Food’s great.”

”I helped,” Louis says proudly, and Eleanor laughs.

”Kind of.” She grins at Harry. ”Louis has told me all kinds of stories about you.”

Harry swallows. ”Really?”

”You’re my best friend,” Louis injects indignantly. ”You’re in a lot of my stories.”

Harry’s heart swells and shrinks at the same time. _Best friend._ ”Of course,” he mumbles.

He looks down, but unfortunately not fast enough; he can see that Louis is sad and upset. Eleanor helps the situation by talking about how much she wants a dog.

”The doormat was a present from my family,” she explains. ”Until I can get one.”

”You can’t get a dog, you’re coming with us on tour,” Louis protests.

There’s not much Harry can say to that, so he doesn’t. He waits until it’s an appropriate time to excuse himself, and when he gets home, he lies down on Louis’ bed. The sheets still smell like Louis. At the first inhale, he starts to cry. Everything that feels wrong is making its exit through his eyes and nose. He gets snot on Louis’ pillow and doesn’t bother cleaning it up; he just turns the pillow around and wails into it all the feelings he’s trying to hide.

*

Harry’s heart hurts. He exercises, and he eats healthy most of the time, and his heart hurts. He’s seventeen and the dull ache in his chest is a constant presence in his life. It’s there when he wakes up, it’s there when he goes to sleep, and it’s there when he kisses someone who isn’t Louis for the first time.

It’s especially there when Louis tweets _Always in my heart_. Harry looks at the tweet until the tears blur his sight so much it’s unreadable. Always is a long time, and Louis’ heart is exactly where Harry wants to be.

How can it not be enough?

He texts Louis a short ”love you too xx” and decidedly wipes his tears with the sleeve of his knitted jumper. Instead of crying more, like the ache in his throat is telling him he needs to, he buys a beautiful leather-bound notebook online. It costs a lot for a notebook, he feels reckless ordering it, but the rush feels good. It’s a feeling that isn’t heartache and Harry revels in it as if it’s solace.

*

When the notebook arrives, Harry doesn’t know what to do at first. He strokes the leather with a finger, the new and slick surface pleasant to touch. When he opens it, it creaks at the spine, and somehow that small noise makes it easier. He bought this to use, and so he’s going to use it.

On the first page, in black ink, he writes a quote: _write hard and clear about what hurts._

He scribbles ”Ernest Hemingway” underneath it, and then turns to a new page, biting his lip and thinking about what hurts. The first words of his own he writes in his journal aren’t great, original or poetic, just something that hurts. They go like this: _you love me but it’s not enough, you love her and it’s all too much._

The next time Louis invites him to come around, Harry doesn’t respond.

**2012**

After a while, Louis stops asking. Harry doesn’t stop checking his phone for his messages, though. Sometimes he scrolls up the unanswered messages Louis has sent him, counts them like a prayer. _This is for the best._

They’re starting to get proper famous now, and when Louis and Eleanor go out, there are paparazzi taking pictures of them. Harry knows he shouldn’t look at them, but he does. He leans close to the screen and tries to read their facial expressions. Are they happy? In some pictures they look it, Louis’ grin radiating through the screen and Eleanor’s hand in his with a seemingly warm touch.

Harry has been papped himself enough times that he knows those pictures don’t even tell a fraction of what goes on in someone’s life. He knows that nitpicking them like this is pointless, fruitless, foolish. But he saves them all in a folder before he closes his computer and gets his notebook out.

_I don’t want to ask you where you’ve been, _he starts writing, but he draws a thick line over it a second later.__

__He’s the only reader of this; he doesn’t have to lie._ _

__*_ _

__Harry sits next to Niall in every interview they do. Louis pinches Liam’s nipples, rests his head on Zayn’s shoulder, and doesn’t look at Harry._ _

__”So are you allowed to do whatever you want with your hair, stuff like that?” The interviewer looks like they’re out for blood._ _

__”Of course.” Louis huffs. ”We’re not puppets, if that’s what you think.”_ _

__”We do have individual freedom as people,” Liam jumps in with a diplomatic smile. ”We own ourselves.”_ _

__”Harold’s hair is getting quite long, isn’t it?” Louis gestures with his hand toward Harry, but when Harry looks his way, Louis’ eyes are somewhere else._ _

__”I like it.” The interviewer smiles at Harry. He knows that smile; it’s the ’scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours’ smile. They’re wolves, all of them. But he forces a smile back._ _

__The interview goes on, and Louis doesn’t acknowledge him again._ _

__When it’s over and Harry rides alone in a car back to the hotel, he closes his fingers around his wrist, sinking his nails into the skin there. He’s thinking about a new tattoo, trying to drown out the Louis in his head with possible words and pictures to get inked. But it doesn’t go away – the realisation that Louis hasn’t acknowledged him in an interview for almost a year._ _

__And in his chest aches the fact that it’s his own fault._ _

__**2013** _ _

__It’s supposed to get better._ _

__That’s what everyone says about broken hearts: give it time, you’ll get over it, it’ll stop hurting. Harry has given it time. He’s waited, and written, and wondered, and it’s not better._ _

__It’s been two fucking years and Harry is sick of waiting._ _

__He gets the idea in the shower: what if he could remove his heart? It beats traitorously in his chest, with the same dull ache as usual, and he’s tired of it. When he gets out, he barely bothers to dry himself properly before he takes to Google. ”How to remove your heart”. Most of the hits are amateur poetry of varying quality, but he scrolls on with his bottom lip between his teeth._ _

__What he’s looking for is in Australia, and he’s in America. But it’s there – the website clearly states that at your own risk, you can get your heart surgically removed and replaced with a silicone mold to fill the void. Harry laughs quietly to himself. This is morbid. At the bottom of the info page there’s a price stated, with a lot of numbers, and a warning in capital letters: THIS PROCEDURE IS DONE COMPLETELY AT YOUR OWN RISK, WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT WE CANNOT GUARANTEE YOUR SURVIVAL._ _

__Harry thinks that keeping his broken heart inside is a bigger threat to his life than removing it._ _

__*_ _

__When the tour reaches Australia three weeks later, Harry has an appointment. On their day off, Niall goes golfing, Louis and Liam go surfing, and Harry lies down on an operating table._ _

__They make him sign a contract first, with a longer and legalese version of the capital letter warning on the website. He pays by credit card, and the doctor shows him the silicone heart. It just looks like a lump, really. The doctor asks him if it’s okay, and Harry nods._ _

__A couple of hours later he wakes up in a hospital bed with stitches on his chest. He’s thirsty and groggy from the anesthesia, but he’s smiling._ _

__”Mr Styles.” His doctor is at the foot of the bed, looking down on him with serious eyebrows above his tired eyes. ”Some people like to keep the removed body part. Is that something you’d be interested in?”_ _

__Harry replies without thinking about it. ”Yes,” he croaks. ”Can I have some water?”_ _

__The doctor nods. ”Of course.”_ _

__He gets his water, and when he’s rested a couple of hours, they let him go. It’s entirely unlike any surgery Harry’s ever had or heard of before. Harry leaves the hospital with surgical tape on his chest and in his bag there’s a glass jar, containing preserving fluid and his heart._ _

__”What did you do?” Paul squints at him as Harry gets in the car._ _

__”Don’t worry about it.” Harry grins dazedly. The drugs have worn off but he still feels floaty._ _

__Paul looks unconvinced, but he doesn’t press for information, and drives unusually slowly on the way back to the hotel._ _

__*_ _

__The first time Harry sees Louis after the surgery is the exact moment he becomes bitter. He walks into a backstage room, to do their usual pre-show rituals, and Louis is smiling at something Niall is doing. Harry can feel the surgical tape over his still-fresh scar stick to the fabric of his t-shirt – and a dull ache manifests in his body._ _

__”Hi, you all right?” Liam smiles at him, sweet as ever._ _

__Harry nods. ”Yeah, thanks. Let’s get this show on the road, eh?”_ _

__They round up and Harry avoids looking Louis in the eye. He’s hyper aware of him, and when they break the huddle, he can see in the corner of his eye how Louis rolls his._ _

__And it still hurts._ _

__**2014** _ _

__Harry knows where broken hearts go – they go wherever he is. Sometimes after long flights it looks battered from being thrown against the walls in the jar, but after a few still days it fills out again, redness returning to it like the tide._ _

__”Where do broken hearts go?” is a pointless question. Broken hearts never go anywhere; they stay with you no matter how far away you go. But a lot of things are pointless, and people do them anyway, and it’s not like Harry wouldn’t like an answer to this question. Even when he’s got his own broken heart in a jar, zipped up inside his suitcase._ _

__But Harry sings the words with his everything anyway. ”That was good,” the producer says, and Harry smiles at the floor and hopes it doesn’t show how bitter the smile is._ _

__*_ _

__Harry’s got a house in LA now, and he goes there, dresses up and goes out. The night air is warm in California, gentle on the bare skin under his open shirt. He goes to a club and gets an appletini, because he used to wonder what they tasted like when he watched Scrubs as a teenager. It turns out that they taste very sweet and vaguely like apple-tasting chemicals; Harry isn’t impressed. He gets more of them anyway, starts feeling soft and fuzzy inside, and sooner or later someone approaches him. People tend to._ _

__”Hi.” The man grins at him, eyes on his chest. ”Are you here by yourself?”_ _

__”Not at all,” Harry replies, and tries to remember how to smile. ”There’s lots of people here.”_ _

__The stranger laughs, and Harry notes that his teeth look nice. Healthy. ”Very funny,” he says. ”So, do you want to join me and my friends?” He gestures to a booth in the bar part of the club._ _

__Harry shrugs. ”I’d love to.”_ _

__His name is Mike, and his friends all have names like Ashley and John, impossible to remember. Harry shakes everyone’s hand before sitting down at the far end. Mike produces a shot of something clear, seemingly out of thin air, and nods to him._ _

__So Harry drinks. It burns, but it makes him feel even fuzzier, and he remembers how to smile now. He doesn’t remember what Mike talks to him about, but his hand is on his thigh, too warm in the packed room. They do more shots and the lights start to blur in Harry’s vision. He’s moved to the dance floor, and everything’s moving, people’s bodies are never still, and Mike puts a hand on his waist from behind him. Harry’s body reacts before his mind does; he grinds back, letting his head touch Mike’s shoulder, and then he realises – ’oh, I’m dancing dirty with someone’._ _

__Harry and his cock are out dancing, and his heart is at home in the fridge._ _

__Sex with Mike is satisfactory. Harry doesn’t feel empty for a short while, and then he comes on his stomach. Mike comes in a condom, then throws it out and asks Harry if he wants to stay the night. Harry says no, walks for a bit with lube-slick skin under his dirty pants, then hauls a cab and watches the sunrise through the window. He feels light, as if nothing can touch him, and there’s soft acoustic music on low volume playing on the radio._ _

__Mike had a cute smile, nice manners, and a big dick – and Harry is completely and utterly uninterested in a romantic relationship with him._ _

__*_ _

__Harry surrounds himself with things real people have. He does things real people do. Real people of his fame and wealth, anyway. This shirt is something a person without a broken heart would wear, he thinks and buttons the lower half of the buttons on his newest colourful shirt._ _

__He calls Gemma from the back porch of his LA house. The sun warms his bare feet, and Harry is aware that this is nice._ _

__”Hey, little bro.” Her voice makes Harry feel like he’s little again and he relaxes his legs, his feet falling in toward each other._ _

__”Hey, big sis. How’s life?”_ _

__She chuckles. ”Not bad. A lot of work, some play, can’t complain.” There’s a brief pause and Harry dreads the question that should be coming. About how he is. ”Miss you.”_ _

__That’s much worse. ”I miss you too.” His voice almost breaks._ _

__”You spend all your breaks on the other side of the world,” she says, and it’s not accusing, but maybe it should be. ”Too big for England, eh?”_ _

__Harry doesn’t respond right away. He bites his lip. ”You know it’s not like that, don’t you?”_ _

__Gemma sighs. ”I do know, sorry. How’s LA? Done any juice cleansing?”_ _

__There’s three kale smoothies in Harry’s fridge right now, right next to the jar with his heart in it. ”Fuck off.” He smiles. ”I like to take care of myself, okay.” He also likes the thought that the cleanses rid him of Louis, of feeling this hopeless hurt in his gut at all times._ _

__She laughs. ”Just eat some solid food too, yeah? Juice cleanses aren’t actually good for you, you know.”_ _

__His heart warms. This is what he misses the most; someone who tells him what’s good for him. It’s not the same as getting career advice from Jeff every other day, or getting reprimanded for his social media by the PR people._ _

__This is love._ _

__”Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”_ _

__”Good. I have to go, but stay fabulous, and call me again soon. Yeah?”_ _

__He nods before he remembers that she’s not there to see him. ”Yeah. Definitely. Take care.”_ _

__”You too.”_ _

__She hangs up before him. Harry lets his phone slide out of his hand and land with a thump on the wood beneath his sun chair._ _

__This is a secluded house, by necessity, but he can still hear a faint humming he knows to be traffic. Maybe he should go for a drive. He could drive to Vegas, he ponders. Gamble stupidly and get married to Jeff, really give the gossip rags something to write about. He runs his hand through his hair. It’s getting really long; the ends are a little frizzy by now, and his fingers get stuck in them._ _

__He should probably cut it. But not today or tomorrow._ _

__

__**2015** _ _

__Back on tour, Harry does his job and seamlessly avoids Louis. He’s got it down to an art by now – running on stage and pretending like Louis doesn’t exist. Louis talks to Niall, throws water at Liam, and puts his arm around Zayn. Harry smiles and waves at fans and the lump of silicone where his heart used to be feels suspiciously heavy._ _

__They end the UK leg of the tour in London. Everyone’s excited, and after tonight they have a four day break before taking on the rest of Europe. Liam’s got Sophia there, holding her hand and smiling contentedly. Niall and Louis are feeding each other biscuits; Harry would find it cute if it wasn’t for how incredibly jealous he is._ _

__”What’s everyone doing this break, then?” Liam smiles, and Harry makes his decision just then._ _

__”I’m going to LA,” he says._ _

__Louis stops in his movements, hands still full of biscuits and crumbs all down his front. His jaw tightens and he turns away from Niall to look at Harry._ _

__”It’s four days,” he says, like he can’t quite believe Harry. ”And you’ll lose two from the flights, plus jetlag.”_ _

__Harry shrugs. ”The heart wants what it wants,” he says, and smiles at his own joke._ _

__Louis clenches his fist and Liam’s eyes flit between the two of them, apparently not soothed by Sophia stroking his arm._ _

__”Come on,” Louis says shortly. ”We need to have a chat. In private.”_ _

__Harry swallows. ”Okay,” is all he can think of saying, and then he follows Louis out of the room. If Louis wasn’t wearing such thin shoes, his stomps would probably echo off the shiny stadium walls. As it is, they’re just short thuds. Harry follows with his heels clicking against the floor, and Louis leads him into a toilet. He motions for Harry to go in before him, then closes the door and motions for Harry to sit on the toilet seat. He does, and looks up at Louis._ _

__”Do you really hate me that much?” Louis sounds exasperated. ”That you can’t even stand to be in the same country with me?”_ _

__Harry isn’t much of a crier anymore, but his throat is aching with suppressed sobs now. ”I don’t hate you,” he manages. ”Christ. Of course I don’t.”_ _

__”London’s quite big,” Louis continues. ”You said so yourself. But there’s not room for you and me to both be here?”_ _

__There’s room for you and me, Harry thinks. But my fucking broken heart doesn’t fit. ”I like LA,” he says instead. ”It’s warm.”_ _

__Louis snorts. ”Don’t pull that evasive shit with me, Haz. I know you.”_ _

__The nickname hurts like a thousand arrows piercing Harry’s chest where his heart used to be. His throat aches more every second and he can feel his eyes burn hot._ _

__”Please.” _No,_ Harry thinks as the first tear trickles out of the corner of his eye. _No. I can’t do this._ He swipes it away with his thumb and he can see that Louis notices. _No.__ _

__Louis’ face softens. ”I just want us to be friends again. But it’s hard when you’re not around.”_ _

__Harry inhales sharply, hacking, he’s so close to breaking down. ”I’m sorry,” he whispers. ”It just hurt too much.”_ _

__”Hurt?” Louis furrows his eyebrows. ”What hurt? Did I do something?”_ _

__”No.” Harry shakes his head wildly, and the tears are falling now, a steady trickle of hot humiliation. ”You didn’t. It was just me.” He tries to focus his gaze on the floor, but it’s difficult to see._ _

__”What was it?” The gentle care in Louis’ voice is so fucking painful. Harry gasps for air._ _

__”I was so in love with you,” the words stumble out, ”and it hurt too much.” Harry wipes his eyes and looks up at Louis._ _

__”You were in love with me?” Louis leans back against the door, his eyes wide and fixed on Harry like a too-bright spotlight._ _

__Harry looks down and nods. ”I thought you knew.” He sniffles. ”I thought it was obvious.”_ _

__”I didn’t.” Louis’ voice is softer now, but thin and raspy with emotion. ”I couldn’t understand why you didn’t want to be my best friend anymore.”_ _

__”I miss you so much.” The gates are open now, Harry can’t bring himself to care anymore._ _

__Louis’ mouth is a serious line when he responds, his eyes look heavy in their sockets. ”How do you know?” Harry has never heard this voice from Louis before. This intense care. It hurts. ”We’ve barely talked outside business meetings for two years, Haz. How do you know who I am now?”_ _

__It’s not fair. It’s not fair that Louis gets to be mature now, and still call him Haz in that voice. It’s not fair that Harry’s crying and Louis is looking at him with pity._ _

__Pity isn’t love. It isn’t necessarily friendship either._ _

__”You just said you know me,” Harry says. ”Do you, then?”_ _

__Louis presses his lips together. ”I like to think I do,” he says slowly. He pauses and gets a look on his face. ”Remember how easy it was, in the beginning?” Louis smiles. ”Like we already knew each other.”_ _

__How could he forget? Harry nods. ”Yeah.”_ _

__”That connection wasn’t nothing,” Louis goes on. ”It wasn’t. And I’m sorry it meant something else to you than it did to me, but it meant so much to me. Means.” His voice sounds strained now. ”Fuck, Harry. I fucking missed you.”_ _

__Harry bows his head down and tries to be quiet, but he wants to wail, his face distorted and messed up by this hurt. He takes a hacking breath, and a whine slips out. Fuck. He covers his face with his hands._ _

__”H?” Louis’ voice is closer. ”I’m sorry.”_ _

__His hand on Harry’s shoulder is awkward, tentative, but Harry relaxes immediately when he feels Louis’ warmth. Harry takes a slow breath, then looks up._ _

__”I’m sorry.” His voice is raspy._ _

__Louis smiles carefully with one side of his face. ”It’s all right,” he says. He doesn’t remove his hand. ”So,” he continues, and Harry tries to regain control over his breathing. ”Can we be friends again?”_ _

__Harry blinks slowly, and thinks about it for a few seconds. Then he smiles._ _

__”Yeah. I think we can.”_ _

__*_ _

__

__Harry doesn’t go to LA._ _

__He goes home._ _

__Anne welcomes him with a teary smile, the house smells like it always has, and Harry falls asleep within an hour of his arrival. When he wakes up in his old room the next day, his first reaction is to panic over the lack of phone alarm. He sits up so fast he gets a head rush. What has he overslept for? How late is he? Will he be able to smile people’s anger away?_ _

__Then he takes in his surroundings and remembers. He doesn’t have to be anywhere. Harry lies back on his old pillow again. It’s lumpy and the pillowcase is My little pony, and Harry would choose it over a fancy hotel pillow any day of the year._ _

__It’s different having time off in Cheshire than it is in LA. He’s still Harry Styles™ when he’s off in LA, but here he can’t be. There’s a calm about this house that settles in his bones, a calm that makes him sleepy and cuddly like when he’s high._ _

__He allows himself a couple of days to sleep and eat before he does it._ _

__It’s already strange to wake up to an alarm, but he doesn’t want to risk anyone seeing. When it rings at 2 am he quickly turns it off and is immediately awake. Harry takes a deep breath, heart in hand, and heads to the garden._ _

__The moon is full, lighting his way, making a gentle reflection in the jar. He’s not wearing shoes and the dewdrops are cold, stinging his skin, but Harry welcomes the feeling. When he’s reached the far end of the garden, right by the wooden fence, Harry sets the jar down on the grass and starts digging a hole. It feels good, getting dirt under his nails, the strange dry sensation of earth against skin._ _

__He didn’t bring his phone, and his watch is back in his room, so Harry doesn’t know what time it is when he’s done. The moon is still keeping him company in the sky and Harry looks down into the earth._ _

__It’s time to stop carrying this dead weight around._ _

__Harry places the jar in the hole with the lid facing the sky. ”Bye,” he whispers, and immediately feels silly. He hurries to scoop earth back into it, listening to the thuds and soft clinks it makes against the glass. It’s not long before there are no sounds, just his breath and dirt rejoining dirt. He tops it off with the piece of grass he cut off before he started digging, carefully trying to fit it in the right way. Then he stands up and inspects his work._ _

__It looks like a messier part of the grass. That’s all. He tentatively pokes the spot with his foot, digging into the grass with his toes. It feels just like any other grass. Harry exhales deeply, and it starts raining. He hurries back inside with cold water running down his face, but there are no tears. He doesn’t know why it’s raining, but he knows why he’s not crying._ _

__He’s free now._ _


End file.
